Touchdown!
by outtabreath
Summary: Written for a prompt on the Tony/Pepper LiveJournal: Tony and Pepper decide to make a private video. Banter-y and somewhat crack-y.


Written for a prompt on the Tony/Pepper kinkmeme on LiveJournal: Tony and Pepper decide to make a private video.

As always, adoration goes out to Miss Steph and the lovely ladies at Writers Anonymous - especially Southern Scribe and Hopeful Addict who are celebrating birthdays this week!

If they were mine I'd be lunching with RDJ and Susan, not counting the seconds until I can buy Iron Man 2 on DVD.

GO PATS!

**~*~Touchdown! by outtabreath~*~  
**  
"Please don't make me do this, Sir," Jarvis pleaded. Again.

"You're doing it," Tony retorted while checking to make sure his shoulder pads were on straight. He should've been a football player. He made the uniform look _good._"Sir, I have been very careful not to witness your…."

"Humping? Boinking? Sexy funtimes?"

"_Relations_ with Miss Potts," Jarvis said. "And I do not wish to start doing so now."

"These pants make my ass look incredible," Tony pointed out, momentarily distracted.

"Sir."

Tony shifted his focus from the full-length mirror to the ceiling - to the embedded speakers that let Jarvis talk to him. "Look Jarv, it took a lot of work to talk Potts into doing this and _nothing_, not even my Victorian computer…."

"There were no computers in the Victorian era."

"Is going to get in the way of this.

"I had to appeal to her love for me – her adoration and worship for every single little facet of what makes me me - and when that didn't work I had to make _promises_, Jarvis - about work stuff – not fun promises. Do you understand? This is going to happen and it's going to happen today."

"It does appear that you are committed to this course of action."

"Damn straight," Tony said checking his light meter. "Okay, let's talk logistics – I want good angles, good lighting, a narrative flow. Use that subroutine I borrowed…."

"Borrowed?" the computer questioned. He was fully aware of the dubious circumstances under which Tony had obtained the program.

"-_Borrowed_, Jarvis; that's the story we're sticking to - from the UCLA film school geeks. I don't want to see my ass the whole time, even though it's a very nice ass. I want lots of Pepper. I want to see her face when I'm fu-."

"Understood, Sir," Jarvis said hastily. "I will endeavor to film your," he paused, "encounter like I would a movie in which people keep their clothes on."

"Excellent," Tony said pulling out pom-poms and shaking them. He loved the sound they made. "Now the next six hours…."

"_Six hours_," the AI said in horror.

"Approximately – are going to be very important. I want this to be good. I may never have this chance again."

"We can only hope," the computer said drily.

Tony huffed.

"Miss Potts is on her way."

Tony nodded sharply. "Good. Now remember: her ass, not mine, tell a _story_ and don't stint on the multiple angles." He caught a glimpse of his ass in the mirror. "Maybe a little of my ass."

"That is an edict that will be forever emblazoned on my memory," Jarvis said before going quiet. Tony could hear the gentle whir of a dozen cameras.

Pepper entered the bedroom.

"This is a stupid idea."

"Honey, sweetheart, _Pepper_, it's a fantastic idea. And you look incredible."

She smiled and sighed. "I feel ridiculous."

"Cheerleader is a good look for you." He could not stop looking at the bright white sneakers, the short, short, amazingly _short_ blue skirt floating at the tops of her thighs, the tight white sweater, the adorable ponytails dangling on either side of her face. She had ribbons in her hair. Fucking ribbons.

He had the best ideas.

She quirked her lips and looked him up and down, taking in the tight white pants stretched tautly over the pads he'd strapped to his thighs and the broad shoulder pads filling out the black and white team jersey.

"You don't look completely awful," she said.

He waggled his eyebrows at her and turned around so she could appreciate the full view. He peered over his shoulder at her. "Good no matter which angle you're looking at it from, huh?"

"Yes, Tony," she laughed. "Good coming and going.

"I could've worn a Raiders cheerleader uniform you know."

He lit up. He loved how eager and keen and _willing_ she always was to indulge him. "Too much skin," he said, turning back to look at her. "I like that better. More to peel off of you."

"I love you," she said, "But you are very strange."

"Eccentric, baby – you can't be strange when you're a billionaire."

She scoffed and glanced searchingly around the room. "I'm still not sure ab-."

"No! You agreed, Potts. I'm going to the budget meeting and look…"

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

"_Be_ interested and make contributions. I've spent the last week prepping Jarvis and we put up firewalls that even I can't break through. We're doing this and it's going to be fantastic and then we're going to watch it and it's going to be fantastic all over again."

"If this ends up on the Internet I will cut your balls off," she said chillingly. "You do realize that, right?"

"I am aware," he said bouncing up on his toes. "No Internet – just hours and hours of good, clean viewing pleasure for the two of us."

"_Hours and hours_?" she asked skeptically. "That's ambitious."

"I can hold out," he challenged.

"Sure you can," she drawled unfairly. Just because he'd never been able to do it before didn't mean he wouldn't be able to when it really counted.

"Watch me," he said firmly.

"Oh I intend to do a lot more than watch," she flirted, eyebrow quirking, feet swiveling, hips twisting, skirt flaring.

He made a hungry sound. "That's amazing."

"What?" she asked, continuing the hypnotic movement, "This?"

"_That_, Pepper, that that. Keep doing that. Jarvis, make sure you're getting this!"

"Tony!"

"Sir!"

"What?" he asked them both innocently. "I'm the director of this little movie and I want to make sure I'm getting the good stuff."

"I will make sure that you get the 'good stuff,'" Jarvis said wryly.

Pepper stopped moving so as to glare more effectively. "This'll go a lot better if you don't constantly remind me that I have ten…."

"Twelve."

"Twelve, oh God, _twelve _cameras pointed at me."

"Got it," Tony said. "No talking Jarvis."

"I did-."

"Mute! Now, Potts," he grinned wickedly, "I got you pom-poms."

"Of course you did," she said holding her hands out. He dropped them to the floor in favor of pulling her close, unable to resist kissing her for another second.

They were both pink and breathing heavily before he finally released her. They fumbled for the pom-poms and the football with shaking hands.

Pepper fluffed the poms while Tony tucked the football under his arm and started running in place.

"What are you doing?"

"Running for a touchdown," he explained patiently.

"Uhm…."

"The winning touchdown. In the Super Bowl," he elaborated.

"And I should be cheering you on?"

"That's the whole idea," he panted, trying valiantly not to sound out of breath.

"I did find some cheers," she volunteered.

Holy fuck she was the best.

"You did?" he asked stopping so he could look at her properly. He was completely delighted and not afraid to show it.

She nodded and bent over at the waist and placed the pom-poms at her feet then she stood straight and, in a loud, carrying voice, started to chant. "Hey hey are you ready?" Clap, clap. "Hey hey are you ready?" Clap, clap; rhythmic foot stomp. "To play?"

She pointed at Tony.

"Yes?"

She nodded and continued. "Are you ready to play?" Her feet sped up and the clapping began to weave into the rhythm of her feet. "Let's get hard, let's get down, let's get physical and beat that meat!"

She did a jump and yelled something that sounded like "go team."

He fucking _loved_ this woman. Adored her completely.

"Wow."

"I have more."

"Oh thank God."

She laughed and bent over to get the pom-poms.

He _really _loved the pom-poms.

She bent forward slightly, smiled hugely and began to shake the poms. "Hi!" Pepper started, rocking and jumping around – her hair flew around her face; the skirt rode up in a very pleasant way; her breasts bounced deliciously – "My name is Pepper and I like to shake and when I shake I make a boom earthquake." She threw her arms above her head and waved the pom-poms enthusiastically. "I'm the cheerleader and I like to shake and when I shake I make a boom earthquake. Go Iron Man!"

"That is the best thing ever," he said and said a silent prayer that Jarvis was filming her from all twelve angles. He was going to watch the video every morning over cappuccino.

"I have one more," she said smiling flirtatiously, "But only for the winning quarterback."

Tony spiked the ball - it went hurtling off into some far corner of the room with a dull thud – and he did a shimmying dance he vaguely remembered from that Tom Cruise movie.

"Stark in the house! Stark in the house! Gonna score, gonna score, gonna s-c-o-r-e! Stark gonna score! Whoo!" She leaned back and did a high kick that proved she wasn't in an underwear mood, then jumped and did some sort of mid-air split that made Tony realize that the cup had been ill-advised.

"Potts," Tony growled before he pounced towards her, his hands grabbing whatever he could reach. Pepper giggled and caught him, her hands fumbling with the ties of the pants.

"These are complicated," she complained; Tony ignored her – he was too busy pushing up the tight sweater so he could mouth her tits and her nipples.

She made a moaning noise and her hands fell from his waistband, her head fell back and the filigree of veins in her neck began to beat wildly – all of which only made Tony crank his attentions up a notch. Licks became nibbles became the careful but definite pressure of teeth on pebbled skin.

Peppers fingers dug into his shoulders, her fingers scrabbling uselessly at the pads. Tony swirled his tongue around one engorged nipple, then sucked ruthlessly on the other; his fingers migrated under the skirt, stroking the inside of her thighs, the soft, soft skin that he never got enough of.

"Tony," she said, then again and again, running the word together. His fingers pressed harder and higher, in the crease of her leg – close to where she wanted his fingers, but not anywhere close enough.

With a final press of white teeth against a tawny peak– a press hard enough to leave faint impressions – Tony released her. She staggered slightly and glared at him.

"Pussy tease."

"You love it," he grinned guiding her trembling hands back to the strings at his waistband. "How about a little beating of the meat? You cheered that you would."

"I'm going to beat something" she said with affectionate heat even as she ripped at the pants, opening them with brute force rather than her usual finesse. Her hand slipped into the tight opening and her eyes widened when she encountered plastic.

"I did think you were looking particularly well-endowed today," she laughed.

"Cut that line," he yelled to the ceiling.

"Tony leave Jarvis alone."

"That was for _me_," he said. "I needed to leave myself a marker - I'm going to be editing this you know."

"I don't want to know," she pronounced as she deftly unsnapped the cup and withdrew it so she could toss it towards the football.

"That was hot, Potts."

"My skills extend beyond organizing your life," she pointed out needlessly.

"I _know_ that," he huffed. "I know all about your skills."

Pepper smiled lasciviously, sank to her knees and began to exhibit one of Tony's very favorite skill sets.

His hands grabbed her ponytails and directed her, moving her head so her mouth slid all over his cock - wet and filthy and incredibly _good_.

She swallowed him and lapped the glans and played with his balls and Tony just had to stand still, hands tangled in her hair and see sparks and stars.

She pulled her lips over her teeth and nibbled on him and his hands tightened, catching on the silky blue ribbons, his eyes arrested on her lips - red and wet and stretched all around him - and his cock emerging and disappearing, emerging and disappearing.

"Uhhhh." It was the closest approximation to a word he could make; the climax coiled deep in his stomach, ready to untwist and undo him.

"Okay football hero," she said, releasing him; she always knew when he was close - usually pushed him over. Not this time. "I'm getting up and we're going to get on the bed and really make a porno."

"Yeah," he said, unwinding his fingers from silk ribbons and silky hair, "That. We're going to do that."

She rose, grabbed his hands and pushed and shoved and _maneuvered_ him onto the bed and onto his back.

"You should be more gentle with me," he pointed out as he levered himself up on his elbows. "If I can't play ball what'll I do with my life?"

"Make me ecstatic and miserable and build things no one else would ever be able to even dream of," she replied, "Just like you do now. Where do you want me?"

"With me forever," he said, trying to figure out what she was asking, brain still a little stuck on _ecstatic and miserable_.

"Backatcha, Stark, but I was talking about the porno," she reminded him. "You're the director. Direct me."

"Oh, yeah. Okay. On top. Riding me. These pads are a bitch and I just kicked the ass of the entire NFL - I can't be expected to do any work."

"Tony Stark," she said as she climbed astride him and held his dick tightly. "You just won the Super Bowl. What are you going to do next?"

"Be fucked by Pepper Potts," he grinned, hands tight on the cotton of her sweater, spanning her tiny waist.

"Better than Disney any day." She sank down onto him, the familiar slide and squeeze of her body triggering a chain reaction Tony knew would end in something akin to a nuclear meltdown in his dick and his brain.

"Fuck yeah," he nodded. "Smile for the cameras baby."

Pepper threw her head back, smiled widely and bounced, bounced, bounced - her fingers splayed across this stomach, rucking up the expensive polyester and mesh with dazzle accents - at least that's how Pepper had described it to him when she'd tossed the jersey at him - and scratching at the skin stretched, trembling, across his stomach.

Her eyes were wide and very, very blue and fixed on him; he knew that his expression mirrored hers: awestruck, slightly stunned, completely undone.

"Love you, Stark," she said her boobs and ponytails and ribbons bouncing and swinging madly.

"Backatcha Potts," he said and came, thrusting up at her, almost unseating her in his enthusiasm and the inescapable need to be deeper and _closer_.

She wailed, she always wailed, and collapsed forward, her face nuzzling into his shoulder.

"That was pathetic," she said several minutes later.

"I beg to differ," he said, stung. Sex between them was always, unfailingly, blazingly fantastic.

"We're still both fully dressed and you're wearing shoulder and leg pads for God's sake. Watching this again is _not_ going to be as big of a turn-on as you promised me it would be."

Tony leaned back from her. "Is that a challenge?" he asked. "Are you volunteering to be filmed engaging in lewd and lascivious acts with me again?"

"I do kinda want to see your bare ass waving in front of the cameras," she admitted. "I do love it."

"Have I told you lately how much I completely love you?"

"I believe you uttered a similar sentiment over cornflakes this morning."

"Jarvis," he shouted still staring at her. "Ready to film some more incendiary lovemaking?"

"Of course, Sir," the AI said wearily. "And I will make certain that the shots of your buttocks are particularly flattering."


End file.
